


Touch Me Tenderly

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Dark Castle, F/M, Fluff, Rumbelle - Freeform, Touch-Starved, enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin is not used to being touched, and Belle’s presence in the Dark Castle causes him a few surprises with how casually tactile she is.Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “Press Lightly” (song)
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	Touch Me Tenderly

The first time that Belle’s fingers brush against the back of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin jumps back as if he’s been stung. It certainly feels like he’s been stung; a jolt of electricity running all the way up his arm and tingling in his shoulder.

Belle, clearing the tea things, smiles. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Completely discomfited by what has just occurred, Rumpelstiltskin makes no reply, just staring down at his hand where it rests limply on the table, almost as if it’s something entirely separate from himself.

He tries to use the argument that it was a static shock; he was performing experiments and spells in the middle of a lightning storm earlier, after all. There’s nothing more to his reaction than that. Even as he thinks it, though, there’s a shrewd and sensible voice in the back of his mind raising a metaphorical eyebrow at him to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that his argument will not wash and that the real reason he startled goes much, much deeper than that.

It’s been so long since someone touched him casually like that, uncaring for his strange, mottled skin that shines in the right light. He can’t remember the last time it happened. He’s been starved of touch and human affection for centuries, telling himself that if he’s not truly human then he should not need the comfort of a human touch; he shouldn’t miss it as terribly as he does.

Belle doesn’t seem to see it that way. She’s never viewed him as anything other than human, for all his unworldly appearance and for all the times he has tried to show her, through words and deeds, that she is wrong, and he is only a beast in man’s clothing. Belle is ridiculously stubborn on this point. The words ‘you’re not a monster’ have fallen from her lips so many times that they have almost ceased to have any meaning, but then again, she will say it in response to Rumpelstiltskin’s continued insistence that he is one, and that phrase is losing its own meaning along the way.

He continues to stare at the back of his hand long after Belle has gone back into the kitchen to wash up the tea things. He almost expects to see a mark there, some kind of brand to show where this first touch in so many years occurred. There’s nothing there, of course, and Belle does not even realise the significance of what has happened.

Despite everything, despite how much it shocked him at the time, Rumpelstiltskin can’t help but want to feel that touch again. Now that he has felt it once, he craves it again, the simple comfort of warm skin against his. He shouldn’t want it; he tells himself that he mustn’t want it. It was only an accident in the first place; it is not going to happen again. Not when he reacted the way he initially did. Belle will be on her guard now, careful not to do it again and startle him.

Rumpelstiltskin sighs, resigning himself to the memory of her touch and the memory of the effect that it had on him. He has forced himself not to think about it or hope for it so effectively that when it happens for the second time, he’s just as unprepared as he was the first time, despite having craved that gentle touch again.

This time, however, it is no accident. They’re sitting together in the main hall, Belle reading on the chaise longue with her feet tucked up under her whilst he spins. They’re close enough to touch; Belle long since moved the chaise so that she could see his spinning more closely. It fascinates her, and sometimes he’ll catch her watching him, mesmerised, instead of reading her book.

She reaches out and brushes her fingers over his forearm to get his attention, and the wheel creaks to a sudden halt as that same spark suddenly bursts through his veins, stopping almost as soon as it began.

“Would you like some tea, Rumpel?” she asks. “I was going to make a pot for myself.”

“I…” Rumpelstiltskin just stares at his arm, again expecting some kind of mark to appear there to show where she touched him. “Yes. Tea. Tea would be very nice, thank you.”

She smiles, no doubt at how uncharacteristically flustered he has become, and her hand gives his forearm a brief squeeze. He is prepared for her touch this time, and it does not shock him. After she leaves the room, he closes his eyes, remembering the warmth of her hand on his arm through the silk of his shirt.

It takes him a while to realise that this is just part of who Belle is. She is soft, tender and loving, and she shows that with her touches. For her, it’s another method of communication, and despite his initial shock, Rumpelstiltskin finds himself looking forward to those brushes of her fingers over his hand or arm.

It does take a little getting used to, after so long without it, but he’s learned to anticipate her now, and the touch of her fingertips no longer burns like it did at first, but rather warms him snugly. It’s a feeling like coming home on a cold day to a roaring fire in the grate and soft knitted blankets. Belle’s touch makes him feel safe and wanted.

Of course, the snide voice at the back of his mind, the voice of all the Dark Ones who came before him, keeps telling him that it cannot last. Belle cannot want him. There has to be a mistake somewhere. She cannot possibly like touching him so casually and so often, not when he is as hideous as he is, on the outside and the in. Something will have to give. Even though the snide voice is extremely convincing at times, Rumpelstiltskin still can’t make the maths work. If Belle does not like touching him, then why does she keep doing it? For all her tactile nature seems to be ingrained within her, if she was really so repulsed by him as he seems to believe she is, she would be able to let go of the impulse.

What can she hope to gain from it? The snide voice tells her that she’s lulling him into some kind of false sense of security, but he can’t fathom for what reason. Is she doing it so that he will get used to her touch and then she’ll take it away from him without warning? True, he has come to crave these little touches now, but if they were to stop then it would hardly bring his world crashing down around him. It would hardly make him more vulnerable.

He thinks about her wanting to learn the monster’s weaknesses, and he wonders if she has learned this one and how it might be used against him, then he shakes his head crossly, trying to push the thought away. Just when he has finally gotten used to Belle’s tactility and begun to enjoy it, the darkness creeps in, sullying everything it touches like it always does.

They’re sitting together at dinner, both at one end of the long table in the main hall, when Rumpelstiltskin decides to test the vague hypothesis that he has spent so long agonising over. Belle’s culinary skills have certainly improved tenfold since she first came to the castle. Having never been in charge of a kitchen before, it was natural that her initial efforts would be wanting, and Rumpelstiltskin knows that the castle itself had to give her all kinds of help in the beginning; he could feel the magic working in the air around him every time he went into the kitchen. Now she’s pretty much working by herself.

They’ve finished their meal, and Belle’s hand is resting on the table beside her plate, fingertips tracing around the base of her wine glass. Rumpelstiltskin looks at her hand, not entirely sure that it won’t grow a scorpion’s tail and sting him if he reaches out. At least three times his own hand gets halfway across the table, and then he snatches it back, unsure and second-guessing himself at the last moment.

Belle gives a little smile. She’s obviously guessed what he’s trying to do, and she leaves her glass alone, reaching out her hand towards him, flat on the table with the palm up, an open invitation.

Tentatively, Rumpel reaches out, expecting her to pull her hand away at any moment, but by the time his palm is touching hers, he’s finally convinced that perhaps this isn’t all a trick after all, perhaps Belle really does enjoy touching him as much as he enjoys receiving those touches.

She closes her fingers around his, squeezing his hand.

“There,” she says softly. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

She brings his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles, and Rumpelstiltskin can only stare. It’s almost as if his hand is just some dumb appendage on the end of his arm that Belle is kissing so tenderly. It takes a moment for him to come back to himself, for him to properly feel the warmth of her lips against his skin. Belle turns his hand over in hers and presses her lips to his palm.

“Just stop me if I go too far,” she says.

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head. He doesn’t think that she could go too far if she tried, and he doesn’t think that he would ever be able to stop her now. She’s so gentle, so tender, as if she knows that this is something new to him. Well, not new, per se, but something so long forgotten and long buried that it might as well be new.

It’s in that moment, his hand held in both of Belle’s and her lips on his palm, that Rumpelstiltskin realises his feelings for what they are. As much as he might try to deny it, he is falling in love with Belle, and her tender touches serve only to make him fall deeper.

The snide voice is screaming at him in the back of his mind, telling him that this is a terrible turn of events and he will come to rue it, but for the first time, he’s able to ignore it.

In this moment, there is only Belle, and as he brings her hand to his lips and returns light kisses against her own knuckles, Rumpelstiltskin would gladly give anything for another touch of her hand.


End file.
